


Life and Death

by Charlie_Chandler



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - All Media Types, X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Car Accident, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hospital, Multi, Oroki, Paralysis, Platonic Romance, Slow Romance, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Chandler/pseuds/Charlie_Chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can be said that one only really starts living once they are dying, and one only really starts dying once they are living. In this case that one Loki started dying once he realized he was never really living.<br/>After Loki's sudden, albeit unexpected, car accident he is left paralyzed from the waist down with skin grafts to his right cheek, left arm, and chest. While in the hospital he begins to grow more pessimistic and nihilistic as the days go by. The only thing that seems to stick around since the accident is the pain. However Storm, a nurse at the hospital, (ironically) is there to chase Loki's dark clouds away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue//The Accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hello_LoKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_LoKitty/gifts).



> Gifted to Hello_Lokitty because I felt I owed her another Oroki fanfiction.  
> Also, thanks to all you sweet little bread loafs who kudos'd my other Oroki fic: Aurora. So, in a sense, this is a gift to you too. (And, the Oroki ship needs more fics so...)  
> I hope you enjoy the beginning of this fanfiction (as short as it is).

**PROLOGUE**

 

_“_ _Nobody can avoid falling in love. They might want to deny it, but friendship is probably the most common form of love.”_

– Stieg Larsson

-–---------------------------------------------------------

 

 It can be said that one only really starts living once they are dying, and one only really starts dying once they are living. In this case that _one_ Loki started dying once he realized he was never really living. He wandered around in the world like the undead, _a_ _nimate_ but devoid of any life. Out in public he would stride with a swan's grace and a lion's pride, only to forget his balance and struggle to walk once he was behind closed doors. It was during this time that Loki – once coming to the realization – had felt indifferent towards his life. And his life, in turn, felt indifferent about Loki. _“The poor bastard”_ his life would probably say. And it was true, his life was right. Poor Loki, for he was tragically and undeniably fucked.

 It happened in what could be compared to the blink-of-an-eye. One blaring “honk!” and a  single gasp later and Loki's car was flipped onto its back. The metal screeched against the street asphalt how nails would screech on a chalkboard. The SUV his car had swerved into lay on its side a few yards away from Loki's car; and the city bus that had crashed into the  back of his car  was busted in the front, the first few windows either broken or shattered. The smell of burnt rubber filled Loki's nose as he lay no more than thirty feet away from the accident. The impact caused him to fly out the front window of his car. He landed first on his left arm and the skin was scraped away by the rough ground, and once his body reached ten feet he flipped onto his chest, where the skin was graded away as well. At thirty feet his back arched harshly around a pedestrian signal pole.  P ain flooded his senses and he struggled to breath. His eardrums were pounding and his eyes were stinging with tears. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and his vision began to blur.

“Over there! I saw hi– ”

“Call the ambu—ance!”

“Oh my G– ”

Loki closed his eyes tightly and lamely tried to move to no avail. His effort only made the pain worse and he cried out when someone mistakenly laid their hand onto his injured arm.

“Yo– bu—dy. Han... in.. th—re. My fr—nd called the...amb—u—ance...”

A murmuring hum began to rise in Loki's ears. He groaned and open his eyes to slits. He saw a few blurred figures above him. The hum rose to a loud drone sound.

“Th—k God, the am—nce is here, you'-- be o—k bu—ee.”

Loki closed his eyes when the drone noise faded into the high pitch squeal of sirens. He would close his ears if he was able to too, but he only screamed when thick hands lifted him onto the gurney.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 1**

 

_“There exists three kinds of suffering: Emotional, Physical, and Psychological or Mental. Everyone has experienced at least one of these kinds of suffering; personally, I have experienced all three. There_ _also_ _exists many degrees of suffering from mild to extreme._ _If I had to choose my most mild degree of suffering I would choose_ _emotional_ _. However, if I were to choose my most extreme degree of suffering I would choose psychological (or mental if you will). Mental anguish is just as taxing as the emotional or physical. But the scariest part about my psychological/mental suffering – unlike my emotional and psychical – is that I know when it is coming... and I can do nothing to avoid it. If you haven't guessed already my psychological/mental suffering is my_ _**phobia** _ _. What phobia? Well a very_ _uncommon_ _one, one that people find weird and childish. A phobia of something that is moving right underneath my feet... I_ _fear it and I_ _hate_ _fearing_ _it.”_

– Charlie Chandler

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

He awoke from his unconsciousness in a state of extreme physical suffering and complete understanding of where he was.

His eyes were shut tight when careful but quick hands applied the burning alcohol onto his right cheek, left arm, and chest. Loki desired to scream but knew it would be better if he didn't, the screaming brought about more pain. At the very least he wanted to kick a leg to substitute for his lack of audibility, but realized that he could not. There is a difference between **would not** and **could not** to Loki, and he realized that he _could not_ move either of his legs. With great effort he managed to open his eyes and gargle the words:

“Cah-cah-naught...”

The bright white light caused him to shut his eyes once more and whimper when he felt the familiar burn on his cheek and chest once more. He heard a man's voice ask:

“Exc – se me sir, wha– did you sa–ee?”

Loki swallowed down a small amount of saliva and felt the rise of a bump in his throat. He tried to swallow that down too, but it only caused him to choke and cough. The doctors and nurses surrounding him tried to alleviate his breathing.

_Stop it! I don't need to breathe! I need to move! Help me move!_

Again he tried to say: “Hah-lp! Hahlp me! I cah muh! I cahn muh!” Tears bit at his eyes and slid down his cheeks. Loki choked and coughed again. The action caused him to feel a stinging pain in his chest. A faint droning noise began to sound in Loki's ears.

_I can't move!_

“Get the bandages. Hurry, this can become infected.”

_Help me move, I can't feel my legs..why can't I feel my legs!?_

The droning sound became louder in his ears and began to drown the words of the doctors and nurses out.

“Hook him up to the ma–ine.”

_No! Listen. To. Me. I –_

“Ca–hn't move! I can't feel my legs!”

A nurse's murmured: “It's al–ight sir. We wi–ll h–p you.”

The droning sound flooded his ears as Loki slipped back into a state of unconsciousness.

_You cannot help me. If you could you'd help me move... please help me mo– ..._

 

_S_ torm only knew him by his room number: 33. She had only seen a glimpse of him once while a rushing group of nurses and doctors were pushing him down the hall. And she had heard him many times over the past two weeks. Room number 33 man – as she as now referred to him as – would only scream repetitive things such as “I can't move” and “help me move.” She didn't need to see or hear him when Jean had told him that he suffered a spinal injury and was now paralyzed from the waist down. His unnatural silence for the rest of the day said enough. _Denial,_ she thought. Room number 33 man was in denial about not being able to walk. The day after Jean told him he went right back to screaming his repetitives. Storm pitied him.

“Eht's ma eighty-saventh,” the old widow woman said to Storm as she walked in with today's lunch. Storm set the plastic tray down on the woman's lap and smiled widely.

“I know. You've reminded me many times before about your birthday Ms. Reeves.” She tucked a strand of gray-silver hair behind Ms. Reeves ear and clasped her hands together. “I've managed to get you a surprise today.” Ms. Reeves quickly swallowed down her applesauce and nodded her head, “Eh can't imagine what eht'll be.” Storm stuck her hands into either pocket on her scrubs and pulled them out again, her hands balled into fists.

“Well, what do you think it is?”

Ms. Reeves placed her palm on her cheek and shook her head. “Ah deah, eh have no eh-dea.”

“Can't guess? I'll give you three.”

“Ah come nawh. Pity an old womahn!”

Storm laughed and opened her fists to reveal three pieces of butterscotch in each hand.

“Ah!” Ms. Reeves chuckled as Storm handed her the candy. “Buttah-scotch! Ya spoil me.”

Storm kissed Ms. Reeves on her forehead. “Finish your lunch first though.”

“Ah yes. Of course, of course.” Storm fluffed her pillow and checked her IV fluid rate and the IV needle in her arm. She stayed after Ms. Reeves was done eating to help her use the bedpan, and when that was done, she lowered Ms. Reeves back into her original position and left to the clean the bedpan and wash her hands. Storm returned to gather Ms. Reeves lunch tray and left her to her butterscotch and euphoria.

Jean sighed as she opened the door to room 33. She carried a tray of today's lunch and a cup of grape juice to the rude ass known as Loki. He had his head turned towards the window, so the right side of his face couldn't be seen. Jean hated his demeanor and because of his ungratefulness, she was starting to believe that she was going to hate him. The first two weeks she had compassion towards him, and why shouldn't she? There was a man who was scared of where he was, and what happened to him; he cried out because he wanted help and didn't want to face reality. But the more she looked, the more Jean saw that here was a man who was just as arrogant as he was ungrateful of the help he has been given, and who used his rudeness to mask his fear. Fear of what exactly? Jean assumed it was the fear that he would never walk again, but she dismissed that thought as soon as it came. Just because someone is disabled in any way doesn't mean that need to fear being disabled.

_They are._ She thought.  _Just as capable of anything as anyone else. Like Scott –_

“What do you want?” Loki's bitter voice shattered her thoughts.

“It's lunchtime.” Loki turned his head slightly to look over the tray of food. He grimaced and turned his head back to the window.

“I'm not hungry.”

Jean gripped the tray tightly. “You need to eat.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you might as well starve.” 

He chuckled and rolled his shoulders back farther into the pillow.  H e turned his face completely to her and lifted his chin up. “You wouldn't let me starve Ms. Grey, you're way too  _nice_ for that.”

She set the tray down on his lap regardless  and set the glass on the side table . “You're right, I wouldn't. If you won't eat I would just ask one of the doctors to hook you to a feeding tube.”

Loki smirked and stirred his chicken soup absentmindedly. “Hook me to whatever you'd like. I feel like I wouldn't really care. My life, it seems, is moving more suddenly than I would like. My mother said it would pass quickly so I should try to enjoy it.” He brought the spoon to his mouth and ate some of the soup. He dragged the spoon out his mouth slowly and observed his distorted reflection in the bowl of the spoon. “But my life loves going out of it's way to make sure I will never be able to enjoy it.”

Jean walked to the other side of the bed to check  the morphine levels in his IV. She noticed that it was considerably low.

“Those are pessimistic thoughts Mr. Laufeyson.”

He only hummed in response as he ate more of his soup. She grabbed  the clipboard she also brought in and set on the table.

“How are you feeling?”  
“Like shit.”

Jean resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, “how intense is your pain from mild to extreme?”

Loki set his spoon down, he finished his soup and refused to eat the applesauce, then he drank from the glass slowly; he grimaced at the taste.

“Everything feels as if it is on fire. There is slight itching on my cheek, but I know I can't scratch it. My chest burns extremely when I breath. I feel miserable. I move slightly and I feel hurt everywhere...”

Jean nodded as she wrote what he said down. “Anything else?”

Loki was hesitant. “Yes...I believe I am having spasms in my left foot...does that...mean anything?”

Jean looked up from her clipboard just as Loki looked up at her.

“Since your nerves were killed after your accident you'll be experiencing raw nerve pain. It is common, but the pain will be unbearable.”

He swallowed. “Then I would like to request more morphine.”

She set the clipboard down and sighed. “I can't change it too soon, you'll overdose. It'll be changed it three hours. In the meantime I need to change your bandages.”

Loki exhaled deeply and laid back onto his pillows slowly. “Well then...let's get on with it.”

Loki bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw a little blood. The ointment Jean applied to his chest was horrible. He curled his hands into fists at his sides and took deep breaths, the pain was intense. She apologized many times and said that she was trying to be careful. Loki didn't know if she was lying or not. He didn't really think she liked him, he was rude to her on purpose. He didn't know why he was purposely rude to her either. After his accident, he began to question some of the things he does. He considered that he was such a rude ass so he won't seem, what? Weak.

_Yes weak. I don't to be seen like that anymore. And if I were to die, I'd rather die rude and arrogant – to give the illusion I am strong – rather than kick the bucket flailing and miserable, leaning on others even when I need to... I'm a damned mess. Aren't I, life?_

He hissed when she removed the bandage on his cheek. Even the air caused it to hurt! Loki thought quickly, he wanted something to distract him from the pain. He smirked when he decided to play around with Jean.

“I've been asking around about you Ms. Grey. I was quite pleased when one of the nurses gave me some information.”

Jean tilted her head as she applied the clean bandage on his cheek. “What did he or she say?”

“Well he or she told me of your boyfriend, Scott was it?”

Jean cleared her throat and moved to his leg. “What about him?”

“He is partially blind, correct? He is to be receiving – ow – cataract surgery in a few weeks.”

“Yes. What's your point?”

“I have no point. I am just curious. How did he manage to lose his vision partially? The nurse told me that he is only able to see things such as shadows.”

“I-it was a chemical burn to his face, to put it shortly. He is doing fine.”

Loki smirked. “Really? It's such a pitiful thing however...losing something important because of an accident.”

She bit her cheek. “You're one to talk.”

“Yes but the difference between me and Scott Ms. Grey is that I had no connection to the person who caused my sudden loss.”

Jean snapped her head up to face him. She shook her head. “I-It was only an accident.”

“Oh I bet it was. Tell me then, when you woke up that night, in fear of an intruder; how did it feel to realize that the man you were fearing was your own lover?”

Jean's mouth gaped like a fish.

“The nurse told me everything, they sure love to gossip by the way. Scott was gone on a trip, and he was back sooner than you realized. You were stricken with night terrors when he was gone probably. So you decided to arm yourself with bleach and ammonia in case your nightmares came for you. And that night when you were sure they upon you, you – ”

“Stop!” Loki smiled in sadistic satisfaction when he watched Jean quickly finish wrapping his bandages and grab everything she came in with. She stopped at the door suddenly and turned around slightly to regard him. Loki noticed her eyes brimmed with tears. She shook her head and left.

\---------------

Storm rounded the short corner of the employee bathroom she saw Jean rush into. She spotted her washing her face.

“Jean?”

Jean stopped and turned the faucet off. She looked at Storm, her lower lip quivered. “Oh Storm.” Storm rushed over to her and wrapped her into an embrace and patted her back.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“No. No I don't believe I am. Loki, the patient in room 33. He..”

“Didn't hurt you did he?”

Jean released herself from Storm's embrace and wiped at her eyes with the bottom of her palms. “Not physically. He's like a demon in a human's body if I had to make a comparison. Some damned nurse told him about Scott.”

Storm frowned. “Jean. It was an accident.”

Jean shook her head and grabbed Storm's hands. “Could you _please_ treat him from now on. If you won't, it's fine, I can ask someone else.” Storm gripped her hands tighter. “No, I can... I will. Okay? I don't take any bullshit remember?”

At that Jean laughed. “Yeah.” She hugged her tightly. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won't get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person needs to be loved and they will open up like a flower.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   – M. Gustave, The Grand Budapest Hotel

                                                                                                       

Loki was hardly surprised when Jean Grey hadn't returned after her last visit to his room. To say the least he was quite stunned to her reaction (though he couldn't blame her) it is never the most pleasurable feeling to be reminded of memories you've tried to suppress. To be frank, Loki was even more surprised at who was Jean Grey's replacement: a young black woman of average-height, with short and peculiar white-silver hair and blue eyes. Without any doubt Loki had found her to be exceedingly beautiful. But his rudeness knew nothing of how “beautiful”, how “nice”, or how “whatever” a person was. It saw everyone the same.

Loki's eyes fluttered open as they were penetrated by a comfortable white light filling the room. He had just woken up from his mid-morning nap and he blinked his eyes a few times to adjust. The pain in his body was mild, just a small aching in his cheek and chest, his morphine was refilled and was flowing through his body effectively. He groaned a little and reached his right arm over his shoulder to rub circles into his shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers. Loki arched his back slowly and sunk down into his pillows with a satisfied sigh when he felt pops in his mid and upper back. He sighed and closed his eyes again as he listened to the heavy steps of doctors, soft clicks of heels, and squeaky wheel of a cart outside his closed door. What Loki wasn't expecting was to piss himself. And exactly one gasp, two cuss-storms, and a flush of embarrassment later, Storm walked in with a tray of food and a thick book.

“Good afternoon Mr. Laufeyson?” She watched as Loki gathered a bundle of sheets in his hand to cover his accident; he gripped them tightly and avoided her eyes. His eyes darted everywhere around the room to avoid looking at her, and they settled on the tiled floor.

“Give me my lunch, and take your leave,” he commanded quietly.

“It's only an accident, it is something to expect. Here lemme help –”

“Take your leave! I don't need your help, I don't want your help!” Her face hardened, it was too early on in the day – at least to Storm – to deal with unnecessary bullshit. “Well whether you want my help or not, your gown and sheets need to be changed. If you're so embarrassed to get help from me, how about I get somebody else?”

Loki's cheeks burned red as he looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “I want my doctor.”

About a half-hour later Loki was staring at the ugly, yellow plastic lunch tray, and eating his soup with slow, loud slurps. It was another incident Loki was willing to add to his “Ways Life Has Screwed Me Over List”. He was ungratefully informed by Dr. Radcliffe that he has bladder problems associated with paralysis and would have to receive intermittent catheterization. Simply speaking, he has lost control of his bladder and will now have to insert a small tube up his penis to drain the fluids in his bladder every four to six hours. '

Loki swallowed. “And who would be... inserting this – this tube?”

Radcliffe smiled sympathetically, he interlocked his fingers behind his back and sighed. “Well Ms. Munroe would be inserting the tube Loki because she is your nurse –”. His response was met with an eye roll from yours truly. Loki groaned, “Oh God,”and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Radcliffe pretended not to be annoyed by this child-like reaction; he knew Loki wasn't so hot about the idea of receiving help. Even if the idiot needed it.

He continued, “If that makes you uncomfortable Mr. Laufeyson, we have plenty of other nurses to help you. There are male nurses who won't mind –”

“No I don't care about the gender of the nurse Dr. Radcliffe. I just don't want... don't need any help.” Radcliffe noticed an edge of anger to Loki's voice. He adjusted his glasses and walked a bit closer to Loki's bed, close enough to tower over him. His smile had dropped at this point and a small frown and growing annoyance had replaced his once sympathetic concern. “Mr. Laufeyson if I could say something to you...” He chose his words carefully. “I would tell you to drop this independent mentality of yours. Sir, you need help, you are in a hospital. It is my job along with others to help you, but we can't help you any better if you don't learn to help yourself. You need to learn how to accept help from others because you cannot do everything by yourself.”

Loki swallowed his pride and replied with a somewhat shaky, albeit cocky, voice. “I-I never took you as a guidance counselor Mr. Radcliffe. It is your job to help me, yes. But it is also my bill and my money that pays you. And if I say I don't need help from any damned nurse, then dammit Mr. Radcliffe I don't care for your fucking help!” Loki growled a bit as he ended his statement, it vibrated in his throat. Radcliffe only stared in disbelief and he pushed his glasses up on his face again. He cleared his throat and spoke lowly. “Very well. At the very least I want to request that you have Ms. Munroe direct you into what you need to do, because intermittent catheterization can be performed...personally. Only if you are okay with it.” Loki nodded quickly and Mr. Radcliffe took his leave. '

The thick book Storm had presented to Loki lay on the bedside table, it was a hard-cover edition of Jane Eyre. A good read and nice pastime, Storm had commented. With his soup bowl empty and his glass of milk half full, Loki set aside the tray and picked up the brick of literature. He had read the book two times. The first back in high school for class and the second during a leisure read in college. He didn't find it particularly interesting but the prose was better to read than Scarlet Letter (coming from opinion of course). Loki tried not to shift so much because his chest and left arm would begin to itch. His cheek was already tempting him so he read the first few pages to distract himself.

It was a quarter past four o'clock when Storm walked into the room. Loki folded the corner of the page on page 77 and set the book down on his lap. He observed the fresh gauze bandages, antiseptic, and sponge. He visibly took a shaky breath and looked down to meet the eyes of Jane Eyre. Storm stood before him and cocked her head to the side in curiosity as to how this strange and rather pathetic man could scare Jean away. She decided not to delve on the topic about Jean anymore. Storm loved her dearly and didn't want to think that Jean could not handle herself, Loki brought up a very touchy subject after all. So instead she simply said “hello” and wheeled a small metal table over to Loki's bed. Loki eyes darted up quickly and settled on a corner of the room.

“Would you rather me remove your gown, or will I be too helpful to do that?” Loki met her eyes and sighed in annoyance. She was mocking him. He would have fun, he thought, with playing with her. He raised chin, “I can handle it myself thank you.” The thanks lacked all gratitude. Loki set the book on the table, the tray was gone already. As he slid his arms from the loose gown, Storm got the antiseptic ready. She carefully removed the soiled bandages from his chest and listened for any signs of discomfort from Loki. She heard him suck in a deep breath as she pressed the damp sponge of antiseptic to his chest. Her method was quick, he only groaned once and bit his tongue. She finished cleaning the wounds and began to finish wrapping his arm.

“You were incredibly lucky.”

Loki scoffed. “Please, spare me the sympathy and the optimism. I can do without both.”

“And look where this attitude has put you, I should congratulate you. You are officially the most hated patient in this hospital.”

Loki eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Pardon me?”

Storm met his eyes when she finished wrapping his arm. “Word spreads fast, and the word of the day was about you and Jean. I'm surprised that I haven't smacked the hell out of you yet.” Loki chuckled and winced when a little pain shot in his cheek. “Ms. Munroe you seem like so much fun. I take it you and Ms. Gray are close then?”

Storm nodded. “You could say that.

” “And if you don't mind me asking, why do they call you Storm, it is a very unusual name.”

“Like Loki?” Storm smiled when Loki leaned an inch away. It was a small distance, but still a significant one.

“Touche.”

Storm cleaned up the small mess. “Dr. Radcliffe forgot to inform you. You'll be receiving your first skin graft a week from now. And I'll be back in an hour or so so I can show you how to use the catheterization.” She turned on her heel and left the room. A few seconds passed before she poked her head back in and added,

“And since you're wondering why so many people call me Storm Mr. Laufeyson, it is because I do such a good job at keeping my uproar at bay when people really try to press my buttons.” “And if they are able to press these buttons?”

Storm smirked slyly, “Then they best get a damn good umbrella.”


	4. A Notice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate doing this so much, but I am discontinuing Life and Death for personal reasons. And I am sorry to sadden and disappoint those who read this. You were probably looking forward to another chapter after a long hiatus. But, my other choice besides leaving this message was to erase this story, and I don't want to do that. So, I'm sorry, stuff got in the way. But maybe in the future I'll write a whole fiction BEFORE posting it. Anyway, it was a pleasure for you to read my story. And, if fate let be, you'll read something better in the future.  
> -Charlie.

All in all. All good things must come to an unexpected and unsatisfying end...


End file.
